


Run-Away, Lost Ones

by Chucychito



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Darkest Minds Series - Alexandra Bracken
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alfred is Adopted By Everyone He Meets, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Arthur is Accidentally The Dad Friend, Canon-Typical Violence, Convenient Ventilation Systems, Country Ages are Weird, Crossover, Found Family, Francis is Dramatic As Always, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Know how Vents Work, I Tried, Inspirations From Book And Movie, Knowledge of Books Not Required, Matthew is A Dork With A Crush, Problems With the Government, Superpowers, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chucychito/pseuds/Chucychito
Summary: The parents of the survivors didn't want to worry them. So on that day, Matthew and Alfred didn't know what was happening. They didn't know that it would be the last time they would see each other for a long time, nor did they know how it could get so much worse.---“You got any better ideas?” Alfred snapped. His next words were said in one panicked breath, “I don’t know what’s happening out there Mattie but it’s not good, I don’t think we can get on those buses they have tasers and kids were being bound and we need to get out of here--”---(This is a Darkest Minds Hetalia crossover. You don't have to know anything about Darkest Minds to read.)





	1. Matthew

**Author's Note:**

> It is my dream to become known as that one author with the horrible username that writes a lot of obscure hetalia crossovers. It is not my dream to be known for my multitude of unfinished stories, so I promise I'll get right on those other fics, just not now. At least with this one I made sure to write a few chapters in advance so there's that.  
> As always, thanks to my friend FrickinGwaine for editing all of this when she should have been updating her OWN fanfics.

November 16th

 

“Hurry up, Al! The bell already rang!” Matthew huffed, crossing his arms in irritation and looking very much the part of the angst-ridden fourteen year old that he was (well, that he was trying to appear to be, because it was cool and he wanted to be cool, and he regrets it now but it’s not like Alfred had been any better back then).

Alfred tsked. “Quit squirming, I don’t want to burn you!” He poked the back of Matthew’s head teasingly. “You could at least be grateful that I’m taking time out of my busy day to help you straighten your hair--”

“Your busy day,” Matthew rolled his eyes as melodramatically as possible, making sure that Alfred could see it reflected in the mirror. “It’s your fault we woke up so late this morning anyway, Mr. let’s- marathon- Tim- Burton -until- 2-AM -even -though -we -have -a -biology -test -first- thing- in- the- morning!”

“If you’re trying to imply that that was a bad decision, I don’t think I can call you my brother anymore.”

“Fine by me-- hey!” Matthew protested when Alfred flicked his ear, swatting blindly over his shoulder to try and hit him back.

“Hey, stop it or I’ll tell mom about the milk fic*!” Alfred threatened.

Matthew gasped in horror, glaring over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Seriously, bro, quit moving! Do you want me to finish this or not?”

Matthew sighed and crossed his arms mutinously. Neither said anything for a few moments, and Matthew figured it was a comfortable silence until he caught a glimpse of Alfred's more serious expression in the mirror. Startled, he asked, "Is something wrong? Sorry if I--"

"No," Alfred cut him off quickly, used to Matthew's excessive apologies. "It's not you. It's just..." There was a lengthy pause in which Alfred tried to find the right words. "Haven't you noticed that more and more kids aren't coming to school? And that there’s more supervisors around all the time?"

Matthew frowned. "Well, now that you mention it, I guess.” He hadn’t noticed, actually, but he didn’t doubt his brother. Alfred was a much more sociable person than Matthew and would likely have picked up on things like that way before he would have. “What, do you think there's a connection or something?"

Alfred shrugged casually, and when he spoke his tone was just a tad too bright. "Ah, maybe it's just flu season and I'm being paranoid."

Matthew opened his mouth to disagree when a chime came over the loudspeaker, followed by the principal’s voice ordering,

“Attention staff and students, PSF soldiers will be rounding up each classroom and bringing them to one of the buses situated outside the school. Remain calm and keep to orderly single file lines.”

Matthew and Alfred shared a confused glance through the mirror, all arguments momentarily forgotten.

“Soldiers?” Alfred set the hair straightener down on the sink. “Any guesses?”

Matthew shook his head just as a bang rang out through the hallway, followed by the sound of running feet and panicked shouts.

“Uhh--”

“I’m gonna go check what’s happening.” Alfred spun away from Matthew and hurried to the door.

Matthew only caught a glimpse of someone running past the bathroom before Alfred slammed the door shut again and leaned heavily against it, a panicked expression crossing his face.

“Mattie, we need to get out of here.”

Matthew felt his blood run cold and his heart stutter to an abrupt stop.

“What do you mean?” he demanded, but it was really more of a frightened whisper. “What’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know,” Alfred raked a hand through his pristinely-straightened hair and that’s when the gravity of the situation really hit Matthew, because if his twin was so distressed about whatever he’d seen that he was willing to mess up his recently perfected hair, then they were in for a disaster.

Matthew didn’t press Alfred to explain further and instead looked around the bathroom. “No windows,” he said nervously. A metal latch at the top of the far wall caught his eye and he pointed. “There’s a vent, but I don’t know how we’d get it open.”

The sounds of more yelling made their way into the bathroom, and Alfred cringed away from the door. “That’s all we got? Alright, let’s see.” From where he stood, he craned his neck to see the duct that Matthew gestured to. “Ookaay, that’s our best shot.” With an anxious glance at the door, he stepped away from it and squared his shoulders. “You gotta get on my shoulders and try and get the screws out.”

Despite the fact that the situation they were in was not funny at all, and that Matthew was still largely in the dark about what was happening in the halls outside the bathroom,  _ and  _ that the only emotion he was currently feeling was sheer anxiety, he couldn’t suppress the bubble of laughter that escaped his throat. “This isn’t a movie, Al, that’s not going to work--”

“You got any better ideas?” Alfred snapped. His next words were said in one panicked breath, “I don’t know what’s happening out there Mattie but it’s not good, I don’t think we can get on those buses they have tasers and kids were being bound and  _ we need to get out of here--” _

Matthew stepped forward and grabbed Alfred’s shoulders to steady him. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, let’s give it a shot.”

Which is how four minutes later saw Matthew precariously balanced on his twin’s shoulders, shakily trying to remove the screws from a vent with a stray pencil they’d found on the floor ( _ unsanitary,  _ Matthew’s mind kept crying, but he had to push it down).

Another crash outside caught Alfred by surprise and he jerked around to make sure the door was still closed, causing Matthew to lurch dangerously and nearly drop the pencil he was working with.

Alfred swore. “Sorry! How’s it going up there? You getting anywhere?”

“No,” Matthew replied tersely, twisting the pencil into one of the nails as far as it could. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“It’s gotta!” Alfred insisted, a slight note of hysteria in his voice. “We don’t have any other options here!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry--”

More shrieks and shouts sounded outside the hall, and Matthew hit the vent in frustration because it was obvious they were getting nowhere with this plan.

Except that the moment he hit the plate, the metal tore backward with much more force than Matthew had exhibited and fell inside the duct with a clatter.

Below him, Alfred whistled appreciatively. “How hard did you hit that thing? Good job!”

Matthew didn’t answer, because  _ what in the world  _ had just happened?

“Alright now, we better be quick, they’ll probably check the bathrooms soon,” Alfred continued, and stood on his tiptoes to allow Matthew better access to pull himself up into the vent.

Matthew didn’t react immediately, still staring uncomprehendingly at the metal plate. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to do something like that, and it certainly hadn’t seemed weak enough to completely wreck. Unless the universe had just granted them a break, it almost seemed like he’d used the Force to knock it open, but that wouldn’t make sense either, because, you know,  _ Star Wars _ \--

“Come on, what’re you waiting for? Go!” Alfred insisted.

Shaking his head of the subject and promising himself to think about it again later, Matthew reached up and pulled himself into the vent.

Maneuvering around in the duct proved much more difficult than it should have been, but after a great deal of struggling Matthew was turned back around and facing Alfred and the bathroom. He reached down to try and help pull his twin up.

Alfred shot a glance towards the door. “Maybe I should see if we can help anyone else? I really don’t like the idea of leaving them all out there…”

Matthew was stricken with the shame of not having thought of that until then. There was no way he would be able to live with himself if he was able to but didn’t help one of those kids who would otherwise have gotten hurt.

“You’re right,” he said, stretching his arms out again to reach for Alfred’s hands. “Help me down and let’s go.”

Alfred took a few steps away from him, making him completely unreachable. “No, no, you stay up there, it’s safer. I’ll be right back--”

A sudden mix of panic and frustration washed over Matthew. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have to protect me. I can help you!”

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred promised again, ignoring Matthew’s protests. His voice was noticeably strained and he wouldn't meet Matthew’s eyes, and Matthew wondered if he'd even be able to focus on his twin's next words with how frayed his nerves were. “But if I don’t come back, you have to go.”

Frustration now completely overridden by panic. “No-- wait, you can’t just leave me here!”

Alfred’s smile was sad and apologetic. “Watch me.”

And stuck in the vent with no safe way down, there was really nothing Matthew could do except exactly that. The sound of the door shutting behind Alfred echoed throughout the quiet bathroom, another reminder that Matthew was now completely alone.

Refusing to indulge in a much needed nervous breakdown, Matthew spent minutes fruitlessly trying to get himself down until he grudgingly came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do unless he was willing to break a few bones in the process. Which he honestly considered until he realized that he would be no help to anybody that way and would only be a sitting duck for those “PSF soldiers” to catch him. To add insult to injury, the walls of the cramped vent reverberated with the muffled shouts and panicked footsteps outside, and it drove Matthew crazy knowing that he couldn’t help anyone and that he didn’t know if Alfred was safe or not.

Gah, why was his brother so blindly heroic? Did he not understand that the two of them together would be safer than separated, especially if he was going out there? And why did Alfred feel the need to keep Matthew safe when he was just as capable? It was honestly insulting.

Matthew rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses and took a steadying breath. He would be able to reprimand Alfred later,  _ when  _ he came back. For now, all he could do was listen and wait.

Although, by the time five minutes had passed, Matthew was starting to grow impatient.

“Come on, Al,” he muttered nervously to himself, “hurry up, hurry up…”

Not too long after that, the bathroom door flew open. Matthew jerked to try and sit up and ended up slamming his head into the top of the vent with a loud bang.

“Ah!” the intruder cried in surprise. Matthew couldn’t see yet through his wince of pain, but he could tell by the voice that this definitely wasn’t Alfred. In fact, it kind of sounded like... “Oh, are you a fellow escape artist? That’s awesome!”

Yep, even before his vision cleared, Matthew recognized this boy. Despite their circumstances, he felt his face heat up, because if he wasn’t mistaken, the new appearance was Gilbert Beilschmidt, and wasn’t this a great way for his crush to notice him, sitting alone in a bathroom vent with only half-straightened hair!

Geez, was there anything worse than being fourteen?

“Uh, yeah,” Matthew stammered. “Do you know what’s going on out there?”

Gilbert’s relieved expression tightened and he glanced uneasily at the door. “I have my suspicions,” he said hesitantly, “but I’ll fill you in later.” He turned to look at Matthew again and his face suddenly lit up hopefully. “Hey, kid, what grade are you in? Have you seen my brother, Ludwig? He’s a sophomore--”

Matthew cut him off with a shake of his head. “No sorry. I’m just a freshman.”

Watching the hope drain from his face made Matthew feel terrible, but Gilbert spoke before he could say anything else. “That’s fine, knowing him, he’s probably okay anyway. Listen, we  _ really  _ need to get out of here. Anyone could've seen me come in here.” He made his way over to Matthew and reached his hands up expectantly. “Uh, can you lend a hand?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, here.” Matthew wiped his hands on his shirt before leaning down to help pull Gilbert up. When their hands touched Matthew briefly thought his heart was going to stop, but he miraculously survived and managed to help pull the junior up in front of him.

“Ah, it’s pretty cramped in here,” Gilbert complained, hunching his shoulders so that he had more room to move. “But I guess it’ll have to do. Come on, let’s get going.”

Matthew tried to see behind Gilbert into the bathroom, but all he could catch a glimpse of was the far wall. “But my brother’s supposed to be coming back and I have to wait for him.”

Gilbert sighed and seemed to consider Matthew for a few seconds. Finally, he said carefully, “It’s really not a good idea to stay here…”

“I have to wait for him!” Matthew insisted urgently. “I can’t leave without him.”

“Kid--”

“What if it was your brother?” Matthew demanded, only feeling slightly guilty when Gilbert flinched. “Would you be able to leave him behind?”

“Okay, okay,” Gilbert said quickly. “I guess we can spare a few minutes yet.”

Matthew let out a relieved breath. “He’ll be back,” he promised. “It shouldn’t be too long now.”

Gilbert ran a hand through his white hair. “Whatever you say, kid.”

“Matthew,” Matthew offered. At Gilbert’s blank look, his face reddened and he looked away before clarifying, “my name is Matthew.”

“Oh.” Gilbert laughed then. “Probably should’ve asked that sooner, huh? I’m Gilbert.”

“I know.” Matthew wanted to kick himself with how stupid of a reply that was. Way to sound like a creepy freshman!

Fortunately, Gilbert just laughed again. “I suppose, I’m pretty awesome, it’d be weird if you hadn’t known me!” Matthew laughed weakly, beyond grateful that Gilbert’s arrogance had saved them an awkward encounter.

The relief was short-lived, however, as when Matthew shifted to get a better view outside the vent, he ended up banging their heads together.

“Ah!” Gilbert reeled and knocked the back of his head against the side of the vent, to which he hissed irritably. “Just stay still, will ya? I can see out there.”

“Sorry!” Matthew rushed to say, and he wondered if his face would just constantly be red from embarrassment at this rate.

“Ugh, don't worry about it.” Gilbert's voice took on a slightly kinder tone. “I get it. Kid like you must be spooked out of your mind, huh? I take it you haven't been seeing the news.” When Matthew shook his head, Gilbert let out a long sigh. “Our families were told to keep it secret, but I’m awesome and found out on my own anyway.”

A loud crash came from outside, followed by a sharp cry of pain. Whatever Gilbert had been about to explain to Matthew was lost in the sudden urgency of his expression. “Alright, that's it, we can't stay here anymore!” He grasped Matthew’s shoulder in the midst of the latter's protests. “I know, I  _ know  _ you want to wait for your brother, Hell I wanna wait for mine too, but the longer we stay here the more danger we're in! If he hasn't come back yet he's probably already been caught--”

“Caught?” Matthew squeaked in alarm, straining once again to see over the older boy. “What does that mean?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Help me get back down! I'll find him, you can go on ahead--”

Gilbert let out a frustrated noise. “You think I'm just gonna let ya walk right on out there? Think again kiddo. Now,  _ please,  _ you better get moving or I  _ will  _ drag you behind me!”

Matthew pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to will himself to keep his composure and not start sobbing. “Why is this happening?” he finally asked weakly.

Gilbert sighed again, but this time he sounded more sympathetic. “I'll tell you what I know when we're safe, got it? But Jesus kid you gotta move; you're kinda blocking the way.”

Matthew hesitated another moment before finally nodding reluctantly. He turned himself around (without knocking into Gilbert this time) and began the agonizingly slow crawl through the ventilation system. Behind him, he could hear Gilbert huffing out swears as the passage seemed to get narrower and he had to press himself flat against the bottom to avoid getting stuck (it was a blessing neither of them were especially claustrophobic). Asides from that, the unhappy groaning of the vent itself as it held their combined weight, and the muffled commotion outside, everything else was quiet.

As he continued to pull himself forward, Matthew decided to break the silence between them, so as not to be left to deal with the crippling fear and shame of abandoning his brother. “What did you mean by “caught”?”

Gilbert didn't say anything for a few moments, but Matthew assumed he was just struggling with the effort of dragging himself along through vents that were almost just slightly too small for him. “You've heard of Everhart’s Disease?” he finally managed to say.

Matthew sucked in a harsh breath. Whatever he'd been expecting to hear, it hasn't been that. “Y-yeah. That's the one that killed all those kids, right?”

“Mhm,” Gilbert agreed bleakly. “I guess it got a lot worse than we thought. And the kids who didn't die-- the rest of us-- didn't just survive.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? We didn't even get any cases in this town; none of us were affected by it.”

“See, that's where you're wrong. I’m a little surprised you haven’t noticed how many students have been missing from your classes. Y’know they’re all dead?”

Matthew almost halted altogether. It was like a hole had just opened up beneath him and he'd fallen straight through to the floor. “W-what? How do you know that?”

“I have a lot of friends, you know,” Gilbert said pointedly. “I'd like to think I'd know when some of them die.”

“But that doesn't make sense! Why would they lie about something so serious?”

“You clearly are not familiar with the government.” Gilbert laughed humorlessly. “Anyway, Everhart’s Disease is what all those dead kids had, but I guess the rest of us developed something else. It's crazy, but--”

“There's a grate here.” Matthew hated to interrupt when he was just now starting to get some answers, but there was no way to keep going and he doubted his companion would appreciate sitting in the air vents long enough to finish everything he had to say. “It leads to the back entrance hall. I don't see anyone except--” he squinted, “--a soldier? She's down the hall, though.”

“Just one? Alright, if we do this quickly we can probably make it.” With difficulty, Gilbert reached past Matthew and slammed his hands down on the grate; similarly to what Matthew had done earlier, the plate flew off its hinges, but this time, instead of clattering to the ground in a way that would surely alert everyone in the vicinity to their presence, it just hung suspended in the air right in front of Matthew's eyes before it was gently lowered down without a sound.

Matthew whipped around and stared at Gilbert incredulously. “What was that?! What did you just do?!”

“Just go, damn it!” Gilbert shoved Matthew forward and didn't wait to hear anything else he had to say. Matthew gritted his teeth but complied, latching onto Gilbert’s hand before he could fall unceremoniously to the floor.

His feet hadn't even touched the ground before the soldier down the hall noticed them with a surprised shout. “Hey, stop!” she cried, pulling a taser out of her belt and starting towards them.

Matthew’s blood turned to ice and he pulled urgently on Gilbert's arm, trying to help him down as quickly as possible. Gilbert waved him off and leaned partially out of the vent to get a better view of the soldier. His eyes went to the taser in her grasp; they glowed blue when he abruptly jerked his hand up. As Matthew watched, the taser followed the movement, ripping out of the soldier's hands before being tossed carelessly behind her. She was so surprised she staggered, and when Gilbert once again threw his hand to the side she was yanked by an invisible force until the back of her head cracked against the wall and she crumpled like deadweight to the floor.

Matthew backed away so quickly he tripped and fell back against the wall. Doubling over, he was having a hard time drawing air into his lungs, and for a delirious moment he wondered if he was just having a very realistic dream, because if he wasn't dreaming, how in the world had he not suffered a heart attack yet?

“Kid-- Matthew!” Matthew finally glanced up, realizing belatedly that Gilbert must've been calling to him for a few seconds. His eyes were back to their normal reddish brown, no sign of the eerie blue glow. “You gotta help me down!”

“You just--” Matthew broke off to choke in a shuddering breath. He gestured wildly at the incapacitated soldier. “I-I can’t--”

Gilbert hit the side of the wall in frustration. “I won't have the chance to explain if we get caught!” He narrowed his eyes when Matthew made no sign of moving to help and his voice took on a more dangerous tone. “I can  _ make  _ you move, y’know, but I don't think either of us want that.”

Matthew’s breath hitched and he shook his head at himself for having the audacity to feel betrayed. Swallowing the sudden sickness in his throat, he stepped across the hall and grabbed onto Gilbert’s waiting hands. Once the older boy was on the ground and standing in front of Matthew, Gilbert’s eyes seemed to soften a bit. “I'm sorry--,” he began, reaching to place a hand on Matthew's shoulder, but stopped short when Matthew flinched away from him. He cleared his throat and glanced up and down the hallway. "The coast's clear now, but we can't count on it staying that way. Let's get out of here." He took a few steps forward before pausing and tipping his head. "Are you with me?"

Matthew hesitated, but really, what choice did he have? It was either follow the boy he'd had a crush on since last year who'd also just knocked someone out without lifting a single finger and then threatened Matthew, or risk being caught by a different soldier to face an unknowable and dangerous fate all on his own. So he nodded faintly and forced his legs to carry him after Gilbert. The junior offered him a relieved and somewhat shaky smile before taking Matthew's hand in his own. "Alright then. Let's blow this popsicle stand."


	2. Gilbert, Yao, Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry if you're still confused, I clear most things up at the end of this chapter! Please stick around until at least then.  
> The dates at the beginning of the POVs are just to keep days straight and help me keep track of how much time is passing. If there's no date above a POV, it takes place directly following or at the same time as the last one.

"So where are we going?"

Gilbert glanced over in surprise at the sound of his younger companion's quiet voice before returning his eyes to the road. Matthew hadn't said much since they'd hopped into Gilbert's car in the school parking lot and made their escape that morning. At first, Gilbert had been more than willing to fill the silence himself-- explaining everything alone had taken up at least half an hour with the younger boy asking questions here and there, but after that he'd soon run out of things to say, and the quiet had stretched between them for quite awhile until Gilbert switched on the radio a few miles back.

"I was thinking I'd sneak by my house to grab some things and then we'd take off."

"Take off for where?" Matthew's voice was grim-- Gilbert had already told him that going home and staying home would put their families in danger. "What exactly is the plan?"

"There is no plan." Gilbert shrugged as if wholly unconcerned by this fact. "Plans make things less fun, anyway." He could tell from the way Matthew's shoulders tensed that he didn't agree with that at all, but the freshman just leaned back and didn't say anything. Gilbert tapped his hands on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “Listen,” he said, struggling to find words, “I’m sorry if I scared you back there. I know it was an un-awesome thing to do. But we had to get out of there and you weren’t listening--,” he broke off, fingers tightening against the steering wheel. A heavy silence hung between them for a few moments until Gilbert blew out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry. We’re friends now,” he promised, leaning over to push Matthew’s shoulder lightly, “I’m not going to force you to do anything.”

Glancing over, Gilbert could see Matthew’s face was slightly flushed, but it was probably just indignation from having been pushed. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, but genuinely, “I get it.”

The tension seeped out of Gilbert's shoulders and he offered the freshman in the passenger seat a relieved smile. "We still have another ten minutes till we get to my place. Why don't you choose the station? I don't care what we listen to as long as it's loud."

"If I hadn't left my phone in my locker I'd have a ton of playlists," Matthew said mournfully as he leaned forward to fiddle with the radio dial.

"My phone's in my sweater in the back if you want it later. But we should probably be careful about the GPS..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gilbert saw Matthew try and hide a tentative smile in the sleeve of his red hoodie. "Because the FBI are watching us," he said in a mocking solemn tone.

"They might be!" Gilbert's defensive attitude was less believable when his statement was punctuated by a laugh.

"Oh, hey!" Matthew's face brightened considerably and he quickly made to turn the radio up. Gilbert's ears were instantly assaulted by 80s synthetic pop. "Safety Dance," Matthew said with a hesitant but excited grin.

"This is the stuff you listen to?" Gilbert asked with a disbelieving snort. "Never would've guessed."

"It's a classic," Matthew protested. "It'd be a crime to skip over this song."

"You got me there," Gilbert admitted. Truthfully, if he was by himself he probably would've skipped past it, but he couldn't bring himself to do that when Matthew finally seemed more or less relaxed. Besides, it really wasn't a bad song to lift the mood. "You better be willing to sing it with me though," Gilbert warned, turning it up a tad higher than what Matthew had left it at. "Don't give me that look, you brought this on yourself."

Matthew shook his head with a nervous laugh but when the chorus came they were both singing,  _ "We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind, cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance well they're, no friends of mine." _ (Gilbert's shrieking voice drowned out Matthew's quieter one by quite a lot but it didn't matter, they were both more at peace than they'd been all day).

* * *

 

November 17th, Afternoon

 

Yao's day kept getting worse and worse.

It was his third day at this camp and he'd been too busy with his job examining the wave of new kids to search the computers for any data on his own specific teens he was looking for. And he hated his job, he hated it so much-- every kid who stepped into the room was either scared senseless or ready to fight him, and he really wished that he wasn't the one responsible for prolonging their fear and anger. If he had it his way, he'd smuggle each and every kid out of here himself, regardless of their color or "danger level".

But he had to do this. It was the only way he'd have safe access to the Psi database-- the only way he'd be able to find where they'd brought the kids who may as well have been Yao's younger siblings with how close their families had been. The last two camps he'd worked at hadn’t had any information on them, so either they were somewhere else, or they'd somehow managed to evade the situation altogether. And while it would make all of Yao's work unnecessary, he desperately hoped they'd gotten away safely.

He'd just calmed a terrified young girl enough for her to just go near the CT scan, trying to show that it wasn't dangerous. Unfortunately, when her hands came into contact with the machine, it sparked angrily and made a high pitched whirring noise. He'd pulled her away quickly and it all abruptly stopped.

"What did I do, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay," Yao said soothingly, feeling his heart constrict in his chest. It wasn't okay. "That just means you're a Yellow. There are a lot of girls like you here." He went over to the cabinet and numbly reached for a yellow jumpsuit that appeared to be the closest to her size. Kneeling down, he gently offered her the clothing. "Why don't you go change behind that curtain? I'll be right back."

Minutes later, he'd watched the PSF march her out of the room in chains.

He sighed and checked his watch. His shift was supposed to have ended awhile ago, but this camp was already pretty understaffed, and with the arrival of all the new kids they'd bussed in the night before, there was hardly a chance to even take a break. He’d worked through the night and had missed breakfast and lunch.

His door opened again and Yao straightened from where he'd been slouched against the sink, sharing a grim look with the PSF as she dragged a struggling boy inside. Once they'd crossed the threshold, the boy shrugged her off and glared.

"Careful with this one," she warned, wiping her hands as if somehow IAAN could be transferred through both clothing and gloved hands, even though she was fully aware that adults couldn't even contract the disease. Yao nodded distastefully and waited for the door to click behind her before he turned to the child.

He was older than the last girl had been, but couldn't have been much older than thirteen or fourteen; he didn't have the bleak understanding and desperate anger of the older kids nor the paralyzing fear and obedience of the younger ones. His blue eyes blinked anxiously at Yao before he spun around to take in his surroundings.

"You're safe in here," Yao promised, making his way to the computer. "Could you tell me your name?"

"What the Hell is happening?" the boy's voice shook and he stopped to clear his throat. The next time he spoke, his tone was even. "Please, can you tell me?"

Yao looked at him for a second, taking in his staticky blond hair and the dark purple circles beneath his eyes. He mustn’t have been able to catch much sleep on the ride here, not with his hands zip tied behind his back and no proper explanation for where the bus was going or why he and the other kids were being taken there. How long had he waited outside for his turn to be tested?

“It’s complicated,” Yao said carefully, not wanting to overwhelm this kid on so little sleep. Upon seeing his expression, however, Yao decided to just cut to the chase. With a sigh, he said, “The majority of the children left alive in the country seem to have developed supernatural and dangerous abilities.”

“Wait, left alive?”

“Yes; the others all fell to Everhart’s Disease. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure?” Yao waited for the boy to nod grimly before continuing. “These places, these camps, were designed as rehabilitation centers, so that kids like you would have a--,” Yao had a hard time saying the next words, “-- _ safe place _ .”

The boy squinted at Yao in disbelief. “So you’re trying to tell me that we mutated or something? And now we’re too dangerous to live outside a fence?”

“Ah, well, yes, actually. The soldiers here have been trained to deal with all sorts of extraordinary children, but I would highly recommend staying out of their path as much as possible. They don’t seem to like to play by the rules…”

“But I don’t have any special powers, so how come I’m here? I think there was a mistake.”

"You probably just haven't developed them quite yet," Yao said, a slight apologetic undertone to his voice. "And, unfortunately, the government doesn't like to take risks. Now, can you please tell me your name?"

"Alfred William-Jones," the boy said distractedly. "So, wait, am I gonna have to stay here then? What about my family? What about my brother?"

Yao couldn't bring himself to answer, so he turned back to his computer. There was no current data listed for Alfred William-Jones, meaning they hadn't done the initial screening for this one. With another weary sigh, Yao gestured Alfred to follow as he made his way over to the CT scan. "So you haven't been experiencing any symptoms lately? No pain? Nothing's felt off?"

Alfred shook his head warily. "I already told you, I don't have any special abilities."

"Well then, I'm just going to have you lie here, okay? This scanner's just going to take a picture of your brain so we can see which color you're most likely going to be."

Alfred frowned even as he hesitantly made to lay down. "Color?"

"Which of the special abilities are the most likely to apply to you," Yao rephrased.

Neither of them said anything for a bit after that, Yao focusing on what he was doing and Alfred digesting everything he'd been told thus far. 

Five minutes later, the results of the scanner were up on Yao's computer screen, and he tsked in annoyance when he found that they'd come back inconclusive. There really was no way to say what color the boy might be at this point; the likelihood technically pointed towards one of the higher levels of Yellow, Red, or Orange, but that was just speculation, and Yao didn't want to risk sending the kid off to the wrong section of the camp. And while notably rare, there was still the possibility that he might end up as blank.

But, Yao had to assign him somewhere. There was no cabin for kids whose abilities had yet to make an appearance, so the very least he could do for the kid's safety was place him in the least dangerous sector.

"Looks like you're Green," he said, forcing himself to sound positive as he helped Alfred sit back up. Picking his words carefully, he added, "that means you'll have enhanced mental capabilities."

Alfred actually snorted. "What's so dangerous about that?"

Yao didn't answer, instead retrieving the proper forest green jumpsuit and holding it out to Alfred. "Here, put this on.” Alfred stared at him for a moment before he mutely took the clothes and went to change behind the curtain. Yao absently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and opened his door to alert the PSF outside that this kid was Green. Well. At least he wouldn't have to watch another kid be dragged away in literal shackles.

It was the small mercies.

* * *

 

Arthur had been here for almost a week, now. Or had it been a full week already? It was hard to tell when all the days melded together. He doubted it mattered anyway; why bother counting the days when there wasn’t even a chance of leaving anytime soon? It's certainly not like he'd gone in there without a fight, but that had ended relatively quickly, what with their “Calm Control” that was like acid pouring through his ears and the few PSF who weren't afraid to actually hit the Green kids.

Green. That's what they said he was. He supposed he should be grateful for that-- Greens were considered the least dangerous color, so they didn't have to deal with half the restrictions and surveillance as the others. Around the camp he'd also seen kids in blue walking about almost as freely as the Greens, but it was the Yellows and the occasional Reds and Oranges that had it the hardest. Arthur hadn't seen much of them asides from passing glimpses, but yesterday he’d seen a screaming PSF rolling to get flames out of their skin while three others had gone to restrain the single Red responsible, and the day he'd arrived he and his entire bus witnessed a small Orange girl force the bus driver to shoot two PSFs dead. Really it had been the perfect welcome to a hellhole like this.

Rolling his eyes at his own dramatics, Arthur pulled his gaze away from the window and glanced around his cabin. Right now there were 18 other boys he shared this space with, but he was sure they would keep sending more kids in until it was filled to the max. Their ages were all over the place, too-- Arthur hadn't spoken to any of them but he'd heard them all shout in disbelief when they learned that the youngest among them was merely seven and the oldest seventeen.

“What happens when you turn eighteen?” a ten year old had asked the oldest a few nights ago.

“I hope they kill me,” he replied, which Arthur liked to think was a tad more dramatic than even his inner monologue.

“I spy something green,” said one of the younger ones who's name Arthur thought might've started with an R (he hadn’t bothered remembering any of their names). He was somehow still cheerful and excitable, perched on the edge of his top bunk and swinging his legs.

The boy in the bunk below caught his legs with a scowl. “We're all wearing green.”

Another boy, leaning against the same window Arthur had been looking out of, snorted. “ _ We're all  _ Green.”

The younger one stuck his lip out and pouted. “No, that would be too easy.”

Voices outside alerted the boys to the arrival of the PSF soldier moments before the door swung open, giving them a few extra moments to collect themselves and scramble into their alphabetical lines.

It was just one PSF this time, shoving forward two new kids, and Arthur saw the tension drain from most of his cabin-mates shoulders. Unexpected visits could mean a lot of things, and thankfully this time it was harmless. With a few alterations of the lines and changes to the sleeping arrangements that were customary upon new arrivals, the soldier left, and everyone fell back into their tentative peacefulness.

Arthur sat back down on his bottom bunk. He hadn't been moved but the boy above him had, and now the top one belonged to one of the new kids. He wondered how many more they'd toss in here before deciding it was full; it was already cramped enough.

"Welcome to our lovely abode, also known as cabin 18," one of the older teens said with a sarcastic twitch of his lips. The bruise on his cheek from lashing out at a PSF a few days ago was finally starting to turn a deep purple. "It's no five star hotel, but at least it's still a few steps up from Hell itself."

"Quit sugarcoating it." Arthur's previous bunkmate said with a groan. "This place sucks."

"So does your mom," countered two twelve year olds at the same time, quickly followed by "oohs" and quiet laughter from the rest of the younger ones.

The teen who'd been speaking rolled his eyes affectionately. "They may be Greens but they're all stupid." At a few cries of outrage, he continued, "We all may as well be family, though, you two newbies included. Life here can be a little more tolerable when we have each other."

Arthur couldn't help rolling his eyes at that, and a few others made noises of dissent.

"Okay, Mother Teresa, we get it," someone groused.

The teen held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying. Now what were we doing? Oh yeah, is it the trash can?"

"Nope!" the kid who'd spied something green chirped. "It's bigger than that!"

Arthur brought his legs up so someone could walk through the aisle and zoned back out of their time-killing chatter.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he felt his bed dip as someone sat beside him, but the boys were now onto telling stories, so it must've been awhile. He blinked and glanced up to see that it was one of the new boys, smiling carefully at him.

"You seemed kinda bluesy; thought I'd say hi."

Arthur's expression turned incredulous. Was this kid joking? Judging by his face he was being serious-- it was bright and questioning, as if he wasn’t concerned about their circumstances at all.

Apparently he’d waited too long to say anything, because the boy nudged Arthur’s shoulder teasingly and spoke again. “Well you’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you? My name’s Alfred.”

He was clearly waiting for an introduction in return. Arthur glared at him and leaned away. “Kindly leave me alone.”

"Whoa, you're British?" Alfred asked in surprise. "That's cool! But how'd you end up here? Didn’t they like, close all the borders or something?"

Arthur grit his teeth. "What, I couldn’t have moved when I was little? And anyway, that's none of your business! Go away."

“Hmm, no can do,” he grinned and Arthur could already add “annoying” to the list of adjectives used to describe his entire life here if this kid kept it up. “Come on, what’s your name?”

“Why does it matter? Go bug somebody else.”

Alfred pretended to think about it for a second before shaking his head. “Nah. I’m already here, and face it, we both need a friend.” He poked Arthur again and Arthur swatted his hand away. “Come onnn, what’s your name? Can you at least tell me that?”

Arthur groaned and lowered his face into his hands. “You are. Insufferable.”

Risking a glance through his fingers, Arthur couldn't help but notice that Alfred's smile had turned a little sad. “Yep, my brother always says so too.” When neither of them said anything for a few moments, Alfred sighed, suddenly serious. “Look, I get that this all really sucks, believe me, but the least we can do is be optimistic, right? It doesn't help to hide inside your shell, dude. I bet you’d feel better with a friend.”

Arthur let his hands fall into his lap so he could scowl at the other boy. “Excuse me, but what made you an expert on this? You just bloody got here.”

Alfred didn't take the bait, just tipped his head in a challenging manner.

Finally, Arthur let out an exasperated sigh and glanced away. “Fine, it’s Arthur. Happy now?”

Alfred beamed and punched Arthur's shoulder lightly. He was very warm, now that Arthur thought about it; in fact, he was practically radiating heat. Maybe it was a good thing that he'd for some reason taken a liking to Arthur-- it did get rather cold around here and Arthur wouldn't complain to having his own personal heater (although he'd have preferred a less talkative alternative, but alas, beggars couldn't be choosers). "Hey, look at that, I knew you'd come through." Alfred sat back casually and stretched his legs out. "Since we're friends now and everything, d'you think you could tell me what all this color nonsense means? I still kind of have no idea what's going on."

Arthur frowned and was about to correct Alfred that they were not friends when he faltered and re-observed the seemingly relaxed demeanor of his new companion. His knee was bouncing and his fingers were drumming on his leg, and if Arthur looked closely he could almost see Alfred's smile waver at his own words. Suddenly feeling a stab of sympathy for this kid who was so obviously trying to keep it together, Arthur decided to forego the insults for the moment and just explain. "Well, there's five colors. Greens like us either developed a perfectly photographic memory or gained extensive knowledge on a specific field or subject."

"Well, I don't think I got either of those," Alfred said with a furrow of his brows.

"Maybe you're just not aware of them yet?"

"Maybe." Alfred didn't seem convinced, but he dropped it anyway. "So what kind are you? Good memory or smartypants?"

Despite himself, Arthur felt a smug smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I wouldn't say  _ smartypants _ ..."

"So you're like actually really smart then?" Alfred asked with a raised brow. He laughed quietly. "Not what I would've guessed, but cool."

Arthur's smile slipped into another scowl and he swatted irritably at him. And to think, he’d actually thought about being nice to him! "Hey! What's that supposed to mean, ya git?!"

Alfred laughed again, this time a tad brighter, and held his hands up in mock surrender. "So what're the other colors?" he asked, changing the topic.

"There's Blue," Arthur said with a pointed glare, but now at least Alfred was distracted and not as noticeably high-strung as before. Crossing his arms melodramatically, Arthur continued, "they can move things with their mind. Kinda like Matilda-- oh wait,  _ excuse me _ , you don't seem the type to know what good books are, so you probably haven't read it."

Alfred grinned cheekily. "But I did watch the movie in school."

"That's not the same, you know!"

"It's what I did with Harry Potter, too. Matthew-- my brother-- he read all the books, but have you ever seen how big they are? Who has the time to read all that?"

Arthur's eye twitched and he rubbed his forehead wearily. "I can't believe you would even say something like that to me," his voice sounded genuinely scandalized, "but something tells me that arguing with you over it will make no difference." Alfred nodded sagely here. Arthur let out a deliberate sigh. "After Blue things get a little bit crazier. Yellows can create and control electricity, so make sure you get used to the idea of random power outages; it's already happened a few times since I've got here. Reds are kind of similar, except instead of electricity they have fire. They can be pretty scary, so you should probably stay well away from them.” Arthur hesitated before finishing. “Lastly there’s Orange, and those’re kids with real messed up mind control powers. Don’t let one of them touch you or you’ll be gone.”

Alfred’s eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously? Man, that’s all crazy.”

Arthur’s lips twitched into a sardonic grin. “Yeah, it’s probably a good thing that we’re just safe and boring Greens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why were Gilbert and Matthew listening to Safety Dance of all songs? Well it's been following me around and when I finally caved and looked it up I realized it was Canadian and that's really the only reason I had to put in in there.
> 
> What color do you guys think Alfred is? Feel free to take a guess in the comments! Also, please let me know what you thought! I live for feedback, be it positive or negative. Feel free to hit me!


	3. Arthur, Ivan, Yao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry if Ivan doesn't seem totally in character here. There's a bit of a reason for that, but I did try and write him correctly in this scenario.

November 18th, Morning

 

"You seem tired," Alfred commented the next morning at breakfast. They were sitting across from each other at one of the long tables in the mess hall. With all the Green and Blue kids in this old summer camp here at the same time (Arthur estimated them to about 500, give or take) one would assume the room would be full of noise and chatter, but in reality it was subdued; not many wanted to risk saying something wrong when PSFs were patrolling the entire cafeteria.

"You woke me up last night to ask if I believed in aliens," Arthur said dryly. He poked suspiciously at the plate in front of him-- a scoop of slop that might've been oatmeal, two questionable sausage links, two pieces of toast, and a juice box.

Alfred had already inhaled half his plate. "You weren't asleep," he said with a knowing glance. He leaned across the table to steal a piece of toast and Arthur slapped his hand away irritably.

"I almost was," Arthur muttered, even though he knew both of them knew that wasn't particularly true. He tsked when Alfred pouted down at his mostly-empty plate and offered him the cold sausage links from his own plate. "Honestly, how much do you eat?"

Alfred offered him a grateful smile. "A lot. I used to get in trouble for bringing snacks to class before my teachers just started getting used to it." He paused to take a sip of juice. "I brought a Foreman grill to my first hour Spanish last week and the teacher moved the test so we could make hamburgers all hour."

Arthur rolled his eyes and scoffed. He tried to ignore the sudden burst of envy in his chest-- last week he'd been  _ here _ , and Alfred had been grilling hamburgers for his class. "I doubt that extra day did anything for your test score," he said, aiming for a casually disinterested tone.

Alfred's smile faded. "I don't actually know, she didn't grade it yet."

Arthur winced at that. It didn't matter that this kid had been able to enjoy an extra week of blissful normalcy when he'd ended up here, anyway. "Right... Well." He shrugged. "At least you'll be spared the embarrassment of seeing how badly you probably did."

"Hey," Alfred protested defensively, "I'm Green, right? So maybe I did good on it."

"Maybe you did "well" on it," Arthur corrected with a smug smirk. Not that he was particularly bothered by small grammar errors, but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to show off a little-- especially given the remarks from Alfred the previous night.

"Well, that depends," the boy sitting next to Arthur, the cabin’s “Mother Teresa”, interrupted with a cocky grin of his own. "Not that I've been eavesdropping or anything," he rushed to say, "I just caught the last bit. But in the context of completing a task, like a test, "good" is widely considered an informal yet appropriate word to describe how one performed."

"Just because it's widely accepted doesn't make it right," Arthur pointed out. The silver of his fork glinted as he moved his hand to accentuate his point. "It's all about what word you're modifying, and since "good" is an adjective and "well" is an adverb, you can only "do" something "well.""

"But then why can "well" be used as an adjective, too?" the older boy challenged. "As in, "I don't feel well.""

Arthur opened his mouth to counter when Alfred suddenly choked on his juice and interrupted with, "Whoa, dudes, your eyes!"

Taken aback, Arthur turned his attention to the other boy's eyes, which were glowing a vivid green beneath his glasses. Reflected through the lens, Arthur just caught the glare of his own glowing eyes before both of them abruptly jerked their heads down, sudden and mutual fear catching both of their voices in their throat.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked. Arthur could hear the confused frown in his voice. "What does that mean?"

"Keep your voice down," Arthur hissed, kicking him lightly under the table. "Tell me when it goes away."

"Uhh, it stopped now."

Looking up hesitantly, Arthur and Mother Teresa exchanged wary glances, making sure both had indeed stopped. Fortunately, it didn't seem like any PSFs had been close enough to notice the two of them, and Arthur let out a relieved breath.

"What just happened?" Alfred glanced between the two of them, drawing his eyebrows together.

"It hasn't clicked yet?" Arthur asked, surprised rather than derisive. In all honesty, if Alfred hadn’t been able to piece it together by now, he was probably one of the memorizing Greens.

"There they go again," Alfred said, and Arthur sighed and hid his gaze once more*. "Seriously though, what the heck?"

"Your eyes glow your color when you use your powers," Mother Teresa explained in a furtive whisper. "And nothing is more dangerous here than using your powers."

"Oh." Alfred looked down at his empty plate for a second before he looked back up with a mocking smile. "No offense, but your powers are pretty lame."

Arthur sputtered in indignation while Mother Teresa snorted and ducked his head again to hide his abrupt laughter.

* * *

 

There weren’t many others like Ivan here. Yes, there were plenty of Orange cabins sitting in straight rows towards the far edge of the camp, but most of them were empty and remained unused. His cabin alone only held about five other boys; at first, Ivan had wondered why they’d even been allowed to stay together if they were treated with the most caution, but the PSFs must’ve just assumed that they wouldn’t be able to communicate with each other if they were wearing their muzzles all the time.

He’d been there a full week before they’d dragged in another boy to join their cabin-- a small child, probably no older than six or seven, with a shock of white-blond hair and terrified blue eyes.

“Come on,” one soldier snapped, fingers drumming nervously on his thigh, “let’s go, freaks.”

The tension was high as the few of them lined up alphabetically and waited stiffly for the two soldiers to chain them together. Ivan could tell how badly some of the boys wanted to reach out and force their will onto them, to put an end to their terrible treatment, but they all knew that doing so would result in their (likely gorey) demise, so they held their powers in check and kept themselves more or less deferential.

The new boy was placed directly in front of Ivan in line, and their hands were clasped together with heavy cuffs. The poor kid seemed so afraid, flinching at everything and shaking like a leaf, Ivan couldn’t help ducking his head to hide his eyes so he could try and send him a bit of reassurance. With his hand barely brushing against the smaller one, Ivan thought,  _ “It’s okay, we are just going for breakfast. You’re safe.” _

The boy shot a quick glance at Ivan over his shoulder. His bound hand shifted in the cuffs to latch more firmly onto Ivan's own, weakly clinging to it like a lifeline.

The air outside was crisp and the frigid temperature cut straight through their flimsy jumpsuits. It was the kind of weather Ivan was achingly familiar with, and for a moment as they struggled to keep their balance on the slippery earth without jostling each other too much, he let himself think about home, and his sisters. The scarf his older sister had made for him, the one for which he'd accidentally used his powers to convince the scientist who'd sorted him to let him keep, was tucked safely away in his pillow case. Sometimes at night he'd run his hands through the soft fabric and wonder where the two of them were, if they were safe. He and Natalia had been at school that morning, but she hadn’t been on his bus, and he hadn't even caught a glimpse of her anywhere in this camp yet. He wondered if Katyusha was still at home waiting for them.

“You guys walk so slow,” the PSF following behind them groused irritably. “Come on! We have places to be!” He shoved the last boy in line roughly, an encouragement to speed it up. Except the ground was slippery, and it was hard enough at their current pace to keep their balance with the chains limiting much of their movement, so all the push succeeded in doing was sending the boy toppling over into the snow, jerking the whole line to a precarious stop.

The boy on the ground glared violently, a thinly veiled threat in his dark eyes. He shrugged off one of his cabin mate’s attempts to hurriedly help him up and slowly got himself back to his feet on his own.

“Jesus Christ,” the same PSF grumbled, sharing an irritated glance with the other soldier at the front of the line. “You think that disease killed all their brain cells?” Re-addressing the kids again, he scowled and said, "What do you not understand? Chop chop, let’s go!"

The hand in Ivan's grasp tightened considerably, the child's face going paler than his hair. Again, Ivan was hit with a pang of sympathy for him; he remembered how terrifying it had all been at first, but at least he had the benefit of being old enough to understand  _ why  _ this was happening to them. It was risky, but as the line lurched back into movement Ivan made to duck his head once again to offer the child some more words of reassurance.

"Head up," the other PSF snapped almost immediately at him, but there was noticeable apprehension in his voice. "No funny business." Ivan smiled innocently at him and the PSF swallowed visibly. "Whatever you're doing, you better knock it off."

"I'm asking them to reassign me to Green," the PSF behind them griped, "or even Blue, I don't care, I can't deal with this shit anymore." He reached forward to push the same boy forward again, but this time the boy turned and caught the PSF's hand with his own, consequently pulling the rest of the line back a step and causing them all to almost fall.

"Hey!" the PSF shouted, eyes wide in sudden terror as he desperately tried to yank his hand away, "Let me go!"

Ivan recognized this scene, having already seen similar situations twice this week. Whenever an Orange would snap like this, they would wreak havoc until they were either killed on the spot or hauled off to solitary confinement for who knows how long. He understood the urge to lash out, but it was more important that they all stay alive. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was stretching his arm out, the one that wasn't holding the child's hand, and leaning just enough so his fingers grazed the other boy's jumpsuit. " _ Stop it _ ," he commanded silently, " _ let him go and never do it again. _ "

"What are you doing!" one of the PSFs cried in alarm, likely having caught sight of Ivan's eyes. Ivan ignored them in favor of forcing the boy to do as he said.

It was a little difficult; they were both Orange, so the other boy had a natural resistance to being controlled, but it didn't take long for his eyes to glaze over and for him to obediently drop the soldier's hand.

The other PSF wrenched Ivan's hand away from the other boy and he stumbled. His powers hadn't had the chance to settle yet and the contact with the PSF accidentally sent him crashing into the other's mind. 

It was chaotic and bright, fear making the man's thoughts spin around Ivan's head in a disorienting manner. He pulled back sharply, and the soldier  _ screamed _ and fell to his knees, clutching his head. And oh no, Ivan hadn't meant to do that, he didn't even know how he'd done it, but it didn't matter anyway because it was already over. Two other PSF soldiers were already racing over, and the one who wasn't sobbing on the ground was quickly disconnecting Ivan's cuffs from the other boys', careful to avoid direct contact with him. Somewhere in the process of everything that had just happened, the little child who'd been holding Ivan's hand had pulled it as far away from Ivan's as he could, and he was looking at him with un-concealed horror.

"Don't try anything!" warned one of the new appearances, shakily pointing a gun at Ivan's chest. Her partner grabbed the loose chain hanging from Ivan's cuffs and tugged it, forcing Ivan to follow. Her walkie-talkie beeped, and she brought her head down to say, "warehouse for isolation." Ivan's stomach lurched at the news, but at least they weren't taking him back there to kill him.

As they quite literally dragged him away, Ivan tried to look back to catch the child's eyes, wanting to convey an apology. But the boy was too preoccupied watching the still sobbing PSF get hauled to his feet and carried away.

To be honest... Ivan had to admit that (while it was accidental), he didn't regret breaking that soldier's mind. And maybe it was a good thing the child hadn't caught his apology, because Ivan had never been fond of lying.

* * *

 

His briefcase closed with a too-loud click in the suffocating quiet of the examination room, and Yao winced at the sound of it. This was by far the least amount of time he'd spent working at a camp; both of the ones he'd been at before had taken weeks to fill to capacity and this one had taken just a little over one. There was no point in staying anymore, and that morning he'd already arranged to take a position in a camp opening nearby to discreetly continue his search for the kids that were like his own.

His hand hesitated on the doorknob and against his better judgement, he cast a final look through the window that overlooked the camp. How many of those kids had he condemned here alone? How many of them would remember Yao as the one that had personally ruined their lives, and how many of them would Yao remember in return? He'd been at this job for two months now and he still couldn't get past how unfair it was-- how little there was that he could do to help. The best he'd been able to do this time around was give the little ones Hello Kitty stickers, but he'd run out much too soon and anyway, what was a sticker going to do when you were a child in a situation like this?

Yao stiffly set his shoulders and turned away from the window. There had to be more he could do, there had to be some way that he could  _ do more  _ for these kids. He'd go to the new camp he'd been assigned to for however long it took to fill-- or, hopefully, until he found and rescued his kids-- and then maybe he'd go searching for one of those organizations he'd heard in fleeting pieces of conversation picked up from his bosses, and actually make a difference.

Pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall, briefcase in hand, the sick feeling in Yao's stomach was replaced with a higher sense of resolve. Maybe he couldn't do anything to help now, but it wouldn't be long until he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Arthur's eyes glowed again because he's starting to catch onto something that most people without his abilities would miss. Every time he puts things together or comes to a conclusion that requires his powers to do so, his eyes will do the glowy thing.
> 
> I don't know how to write Yao oops.  
> If you read this far please let me know what you thought. I'm not sure if this story is just a desperate shout into an empty void at this point or if anyone actually likes it, haha. I'd be happy to clear anything up if you're confused, and I take constructive criticism!


	4. Francis, Gilbert, Arthur

**November 19th, Noon**

 

"I'm dying," Francis said mournfully, for perhaps the ninth time that morning. "This is how I die."

"You're not dying," the nurse who'd been assigned to him for the past few days said irritably. "You don't even have a fever anymore. You'll be able to go back to your cabin when I’m done with this paperwork-- so about an hour."

"I haven't seen sunlight in days," Francis continued to lament, dramatically draping an arm over his face. "I can't even remember what fresh air feels like. I don't think I will survive another hour."

"Just shut up," the nurse all but begged.

He'd been stuck in the infirmary for nearly four days now. When he'd first arrived at this camp, he'd waited out in the rain with several other kids for so long he thought his feet would freeze to the ground before they finally brought him in to be tested for his color. Once they finally got around to bringing him inside, it only took one accidental touch for him to shock the scientist before she even started the test, and he was then rewarded with the title "Yellow" and a hideous jumpsuit to match. (Really, it was a miracle he hadn't accidentally electrocuted everyone in the vicinity with how much water had collected around them and how long he'd been stuck out there.)

Either way, the cabin they'd thrown them in was perpetually freezing and full of sniffly teenage boys, so it was only a matter of time before Francis started feeling unwell himself. He vocalized this feeling many times, to which the few PSFs who bothered answering him just told him to suck it up. So, when he finally collapsed dramatically one morning on his way to breakfast, he thought it was entirely justified to let both soldiers who’d dragged him to the infirmary and the nurse know that’d he’d  _ told them so.  _ They hadn’t agreed with this line of thinking, but at least they had the decency to not fight a kid they probably thought was dying.

By the time Francis was finally deemed well enough to leave, it was almost time for lunch. Various groups of Green and Blue clad kids were making their way across the lawns to their own cabins from the Mess hall, carefully sticking to themselves and avoiding the cluster of Yellow and Red cabins along the way. Since there were so many Psi in this camp, the camp controllers had set up meal shifts-- Greens and Blues ate first, followed by Yellows, Reds, and Oranges right after.

"Cabin 24," the nurse had reminded, like Francis didn't have that printed on his jumpsuit. "That's right over there. There's no one I can send to bring you, so you'll have to go by yourself." He narrowed his eyes at Francis's smile. "No dilly-dallying. Just go straight there."

Francis put a hand to his chest. "The generosity is much appreciated, but I do not dilly-dally,  _ monsieur _ ."

"Dear God, please just go already."

" _ Au revoir, _ " he blew a kiss to the frazzled nurse, who simply let out a deep, soul-aching sigh and turned back to the papers on his desk.

Once finally outside, Francis took a moment to appreciate the sun and the relative warmth it brought, even as his new issued boots sunk into the snow beneath him. It was just so much nicer and more natural than the bright ugly florescent lights of the infirmary that never shut off. Even better, it didn't wash his features out in the same way those awful lights did.

A harsh shout caught Francis's attention, and he turned to see a PSF hollering at some unfortunate batch of Green kids. While they, and the Blues, weren't forced to walk in single file lines chained at the wrists, they still seemed to stick together in small groups anyway, some shuffling quietly with their heads down and others whispering and gesturing furtively amongst themselves.

"Quit talking!" the soldier barked at three particular Greens, cuffing the back of the oldest boy's head hard enough for him to have to reach up and secure his glasses before they flew off.

Francis felt a stab of sympathy for them, but at least the PSF was distracted enough to not notice him and his glaringly yellow outfit, so it was safe to slip past. If this soldier was ready to bully a few Green kids for talking quietly, Francis really didn't want to know how he'd take a Yellow wandering across the field by himself.

He was about to cautiously make his way around them when he caught sight of another one of the boy's glowering faces and stopped dead in his tracks, unabashedly staring to confirm his suspicions. He suddenly felt sick again, and considered heading back to the infirmary because no, he wasn't mistaken, that was indeed who he thought it was.

"Arthur!" the name was out of his mouth before he could even think about it.

The boy's scowl slipped into a confused frown, then shifted into a shocked expression when he located the source of the shout. When their eyes met, Arthur's flashed a bright green and Francis felt a surge of relief that he wasn't one of the more dangerous colors, that even though he was  _ here  _ he was as safe as he could possibly be. 

"Ugh, what the Hell are you--" the soldier's melodramatic groan broke off when he registered the color of Francis's clothes. His hands jumped for the taser at his belt but hovered uncertainly, likely unsure if such a device would even affect a Yellow.

Francis took this moment of hesitation from the PSF to take a tentative step closer towards Arthur, and then another one, because he  _ had  _ just been sick for days, and the only way he could know this wasn't a hallucination was  _ obviously  _ to reach out and feel that the other was actually here right now. And he was very nearly there before the soldier evidently made up his mind and simply grabbed Francis by the arm, equipping himself with newly acquired rubber gloves.

"What are you even doing over here you little-- ah!" Francis kicked the man in the shin and forcefully pulled himself out of the man's grasp, stumbling, and crashing right into Arthur, knocking them both back into the snow.

"Ow!" Arthur winced, pushing irritably at Francis's shoulder. But from where Francis sat (literally on top of him), there was no denying the almost sad smile that pulled at his lips. "You shocked me, you git."

Francis could only laugh breathlessly before PSFs reached to grab both of them.

* * *

 

“Here, look at my hands,” Gilbert held his hands up in front of him, miming their placement on an invisible steering wheel. “It’s the easiest part, kid, just grab the wheel.”

In the driver’s seat Matthew seemed near paralyzed, arms crossed tightly against his stomach. “Why can’t we just make the car go on it’s own? We can do that, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s cheating.” Gilbert didn’t want to admit that he actually hadn’t thought of that.

“You love cheating.”

“Okay, but this is important. Driving is a skill everyone needs to learn, especially those of us who need speedy getaways. Here, keep your foot on the brake, okay? Shift it into drive, like I showed you.”

Matthew’s hands hesitantly inched closer to the shifter, but didn’t make any attempt to actually move it.

Gilbert sighed. “If it’s crashing you’re scared of, don’t worry, I’ll stop us before we hit anything and there’s no cars for miles anyway. Why is this so scary?”

“I don’t know.” Matthew’s shoulders hunched a bit. “I was supposed to do this this year with my mom, and my brother. I keep expecting him to be here, but he’s not.” He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he repeated, somewhat helplessly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gilbert insisted, doing his best to ignore the mild pang of guilt. “If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to. But imagine the bragging rights you’ll have when we find him and you’re already a pro driver? Also, I gotta tell ya, I’m probably the best driving instructor you’ll ever meet; it’d be a shame to pass up this free opportunity.” He winked, but after a moment, he added, “but for real, take it at your own pace. No worries.”

Matthew’s anxious expression finally broke slightly, and he glanced over at his companion with a hesitant smile. “You’re the best?”

“The one and only!”

“Really.” Matthew looked down at his lap for a second, seemingly considering his options. Finally, he straightened, one shaky hand moving to the shifter and the other tightly gripping the steering wheel. “Okay, then. But  _ only  _ because I’d be insane to refuse such a generous offer.”

Gilbert gave the kid a knowing look.

“Okay, and also because I really want to be able to show off to Alfred.”

“That’s the spirit! Okay, foot’s on the brake, right?...”

* * *

 

Alfred was on his feet the moment Arthur pushed the door open and was at his side within two quick steps. "Dude, what happened?" His hands came up to brush some of the snow off Arthur's shoulders. "You're freezing," he said disapprovingly, thankfully ignoring the way Arthur flinched at the gesture.

"'m fine," Arthur muttered, pushing past Alfred. He glared mutely at some of the other Greens who'd turned their attention to the scene before sitting down wearily on his bed and reaching for the covers to wrap around himself. He was cold, starving, and dripping wet from standing outside for hours, so he figured it was justified.

Unsurprisingly, Alfred sat down right beside him and latched a hand onto Arthur's arm in concern. "What was that about? Who was that guy?"

Arthur wanted to draw himself away, but he'd just stopped shivering, and he figured that doing so would immediately start it back up again, so he settled with another glare. "Nobody."

Alfred's lips twitched before he pulled them into a gently mocking smile. "Oh really? So you just like to tackle random people out of the blue."

Arthur flushed. " _ He  _ tackled  _ me.  _ I was just-- he-- he's a right arse is what he is, and that's all you need to know about him. Now could you please stop talking about it? Please," he added when Alfred opened his mouth to protest.

Alfred sighed and seemed to deflate a bit. He pulled his hand away and scooted so his back could lean against the wall. "Well, you didn't miss much," he said in a slightly louder, lighter tone. "Oh, except at dinner, one of the Blues kept throwing everyone's tater tots at this one super mean soldier, and they didn't even catch her! It was awesome and you should'a seen it!"

"I wish I had," Arthur said, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders ease a bit as things fell back into their relative normalcy.

“Here.” Arthur jumped at the voice, looking up to see Theresa himself standing a bit awkwardly in front of him. He held out a couple slices of bread. “I saved you a little bit of dinner. It’s not much, but maybe it can help get you through the night until breakfast.”

“Oh, thanks,” Arthur said, hesitantly taking the proffered food.

A heavy knock sounded against the door, causing several of the kids to flinch away and scurry to their beds. “Lights out in five,” called the PSF outside.

__

One thing that drove Arthur crazy about the nights here at first was the lack of any way to tell how much time was passing. He couldn't properly gauge how late it was, how long he'd been awake, or how much time was spent tossing and turning and staring blankly at the mattress above him or the blinking red light of the camera above his bed. When it became near unbearable a few restless nights in, he'd taken to counting the seconds, adding those into minutes, and then sometimes those into hours until he was able to fall asleep. It was a simple way to keep himself calm and prevent his thoughts from spiraling downwards as they usually wanted to do (especially after a day like today), while also a way to keep track of time, so it was no wonder the habit became routine.

Arthur was at 19 minutes and 36 seconds when Alfred hesitantly whispered, "You still up, dude?"

His counting momentarily faltered, but he mentally caught back up and continued, steadfastly ignoring the boy in the bunk above.

"I know you are," Alfred said conspiratorially after 16 more seconds had passed. The younger teen dangled a hand off the edge of the bed, waving vaguely at Arthur. "I can't sleep either."

"Shut up," Arthur ground out, eyes nervously darting to the camera. Thankfully, it wasn't blinking red, which meant they weren't being watched at the moment. But that didn't mean they should take any unnecessary risks... Wait, what number was he at again? How many seconds had just gone by?

Arthur was pulled out of his sudden distress by the sound of Alfred's exasperated sigh, followed by a much kinder, "Tell me about that guy."

"What?"

"Y'know, that Yellow guy. How do you know him? What's he like?"

"That's not your business!" Arthur snapped, wincing when his voice rose a bit higher than a whisper. It couldn't have been over 30 seconds that he'd lost. He could estimate around 15 seconds and not be too far off from what the real number would actually be--

Alfred's sigh this time was slightly disappointed. "That's not how friends act."

"We are not friends," Arthur insisted through gritted teeth. He ignored the way his voice shook slightly and continued.  "I don't have to tell you anything, Hell, I don't even have to speak to you! Now leave me alone!"

It was quiet for long enough that Arthur almost thought he'd won, and he let out a breath of relief. Which was unfortunately short-lived, as a few moments later, the sheets rustled above him, and then Alfred was quietly climbing down the ladder. "Scooch," he said firmly, giving Arthur's shoulder a light shove.

"What are you doing?" Arthur hissed incredulously, once again flicking his gaze to the camera. "You're going to get us all in trouble--"

"Just move over."

Arthur hesitated, glaring resolutely at him, before finally rolling his eyes and moving closer to the wall. "Come on, then. But if we get in trouble just know that I am not taking any of the blame."

"Don't worry about it, we'll be fine," Alfred said easily. As he was settling himself down, he waved away Arthur's offer to share the blanket. "Nah, I'm warm enough."

"What do you want?" Arthur sighed after a few moments of silence, hesitantly letting his shoulders drop a bit. "If you're having trouble sleeping there are some tricks you could use--"

"No, that's not what I want to talk about." Alfred shifted, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. "You're not gonna talk to me unless I go first, right? Okay." He let out a quiet breath, staring at his hands. "I have a brother, a twin, actually, his name is Matthew. It's only been three days and this is the longest I've ever gone without seeing him. Or, well, at least without him around... I don't know what happened to him, or if he's okay, or what-- what color he is or anything. And my parents must be so freaked out. Even if he made it home, they don't know where I am, and they might never know--" he broke off and cleared his throat, fingers quickly curling into fists. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he pulled his lips into a sort of ironic smile. "It's not just my family I'm worried about either. This whole thing is such a fiasco, y'know? And it still doesn’t really all make sense."

Arthur frowned. He wanted to ask for clarification on some of that, but he didn't want to press, and regardless, it didn't seem like Alfred was done speaking yet anyway. Not knowing what else to do, Arthur shifted slightly closer so his shoulders pressed reassuringly against Alfred's, and tipped his head to let him know he was listening.

Sure enough, after another deep breath, Alfred continued, this time more quiet and hesitant, as if letting Arthur in on a secret. "Honestly? I feel like I shouldn't be  _ here _ , I don’t know. Something’s not right. And also, to top it all off, these last few days I've been feeling really... Off, too. Like I think I might be getting sick or something, which is just great timing, because I  _ never  _ get sick." He suddenly turned his head to offer Arthur a somewhat watery smile. "But, hey, that's just my luck, right?"

"Well," Arthur scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I have to say that’s not what I was expecting at all.”

Alfred laughed quietly. “Yeah, well.”

“If--if you’re getting sick they have an infirmary,” Arthur said, fumbling for words.

“I’d rather risk it to be honest. Don’t trust this place.”

“Well that’s just bloody stupid,” Arthur protested, rolling his eyes. “Kids go in there all the time and they always come back fine.” He hesitated. “But, I see what you mean. I haven’t been here that long either, mind you, but even I can see that this place sucks the life out of everyone in it. You shouldn’t let it get to you, though.”

“But--”

“No,” Arthur interrupted sternly, “just listen to me. Maybe you feel like you’re all alone here, maybe that’s why you started bothering me in the first place--,” he faltered when Alfred winced at his poor choice of words and reluctantly corrected himself, “okay, maybe bothering isn’t  _ quite _ the right word, but the point is this.” He turned his head, fixing his gaze to the wood planks of the wall. “I’m here, and you’ve got the rest of us, too. And I’m saying this as sincerely as I possibly can-- you’re not alone here.”

Alfred didn’t say anything for a moment. Arthur was going to risk a glance at him when Alfred shifted, moving so he could look the other boy in the eyes. “You mean it?” he asked, and Arthur pretended not to hear the slight waver of his voice.

Arthur had many areas of expertise, but heart to hearts was not one of them. He shifted his gaze away again, an uncomfortable feeling in his throat, and mumbled a quiet, “Yes, I promise.”

Alfred’s sudden smile was near blinding, and he leaned back on his knees. “Awesome, dude!” (Arthur rolled his eyes.) “Y’know, take away your stuffy attitude and you’re actually kind of cool.”

“Kind of?” Arthur scoffed, but he couldn’t suppress the small smile that followed it.

“So, anyway.” Alfred moved back to sit beside Arthur and pushed against his shoulder lightly. “Now it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I talked about me and now it’s your turn. So, come on. Share with the class dude.”

Arthur felt vaguely betrayed. "You bloody cheater!"

The only response the other boy gave was a cheeky smile.

"There's not much to say, really," Arthur said evasively after a few seconds of prompting silence.

"So why don't you tell me who that boy was today?" Alfred suggested.

"Tch, why do you want to know about that so badly?"

"Because whoever he is he's important to you, and I don't know anything about you."

Arthur nearly choked at the statement. He would forever be grateful to the darkness for hiding his reddening face. "Francis is  _ not  _ someone I would ever consider  _ important to me-- _ "

"So his name is Francis?" Alfred sat forward in interest, resting his elbows on his knees. "What's he like?"

"Dear God, you are relentless." Arthur crossed his arms over his knees and leaned his face into them. "We've lived next door to each other since I moved here, when I was five. He's a stupid wanker. He likes to flounce around in his silly clothes and flirt with anything that has a pulse. He's fluent in French and pisses me off by saying things I had to learn to understand while we were growing up. I hate him."

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Arthur took the time to make sure his voice was calm before he continued, quieter this time. "One time I threw a tray of mashed potatoes and gravy at a girl for breaking his heart. He laughed when I was suspended, but he skipped school those days to hang out with me instead."

"That doesn't sound like you hate him," Alfred said softly.

Arthur scowled, picking hs head up to glare at the younger boy. "I was just surprised to see him today. The shock is messing with my head. I do, in fact, hate him."

"Okay, sure," Alfred finally conceded, though it still didn't sound like he believed Arthur. "But see? Doesn't it feel better to say some of those things out loud?”

“Whatever,” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“So, anyway.” Alfred shifted so he was laying on his side, facing away from Arthur but still speaking to him. “Tell me something else.”

Arthur sighed, letting himself follow suit and lay down as well. “What do you want to hear?”

“I don’t know, you said you liked books, right? What are your favorites?”

“Seriously. You want to know about my favorite books.”

“Yeah. I don’t read much, except for comic books and manga, and my brother’s fanfictions, but I always liked the cheesy stories where the good guys always beat the bad guys, especially if there’s like, robots or aliens or something cool like that. So what about you?”

Their conversation continued in much the same way for about a half an hour. It was a trap Arthur would have caught sooner if he had been a little less exhausted from both the hour and the day’s events, but as it was, he only realized once the boy beside him had stopped answering completely, and Arthur found that he’d fallen asleep. He had half a mind to wake him and shoo him back up to his bunk, but the light still wasn’t blinking and likely wouldn’t for the rest of the night. No one was monitoring them, and Arthur was sure he’d wake up before the soldiers arrived in the morning anyway. He convinced himself the main reason he didn’t disturb the younger boy was because he didn’t want to risk Alfred keeping him up in a similar fashion all night, and this was the safest way to ensure he would at least get some rest tonight.

With that reasoning firmly in place, Arthur gently maneuvered the blanket as well as he could so that it was covering both of them, and fell asleep without a thought about numbers or the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went a few days past when I wanted to post this, and I'm sorry about that, but at least I actually finished it this time! lol  
> If something seems out of place in this chapter, it might be because it comes in play later on in the story.
> 
> Thanks for your comments, kudos, and everything else on the last chapter, it all meant a lot! If you have any questions, criticisms, or just general comments, feel free to let me know!


	5. Arthur, Lovino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics in parenthesis are Arthur's Green thoughts, the kind of subconscious thinking that one without his kind of abilities wouldn't normally be able to do (basically it's him understanding or catching on to things that most would miss or not consider in this situation)
> 
> Thanks again to FrickinGwaine for helping me make sense of the vague concept I had for this chapter, it was real messy oof

It felt like Arthur had only been granted an hour's worth of sleep before the boy beside him jolted suddenly, sitting upright so fast he hit his head on the bunk above. Alfred's arms must of have gone up to press against what most certainly would be a newly-forming bruise, because his elbow ended up jabbing Arthur in the process.

"Would you quit it," Arthur muttered quietly, drawing the thin blanket over his face. "I am bloody exhausted and if you don't let me get some sleep one of these nights--" he faltered suddenly, both because he was still groggy and didn't know what threat to follow up with and also it was quickly becoming apparent that something wasn't right. Alfred was still sitting up, and his breaths came in quick and shallow gasps. He seemed to be shaking slightly; Arthur could feel it without even turning around to see.

Suddenly alarmed, Arthur quickly sat up and faced the younger boy. "What's wrong?" he asked sharply, taking in the state of the other with a wince. Alfred's face was tucked into his knees, framed by his bent arms as his hands clung tightly to the base of his hair. His shoulders shook, and even though it was too dark for Arthur to see, he knew Alfred must've been crying.

"Hey, it's alright, shh," Arthur said, worry climbing its way into his throat. He put a steadying hand to Alfred's shoulder, but pulled it away immediately with a frown. ( _No signs of memory retention or abnormal intellectual aptitude. Feeling of not belonging and high temperature. Temperature rising. Signs point to --_ ) Arthur’s eyes widened as it clicked. In a last act of denial, he said, with a voice growing more and more distressed, "You're too warm; you better just be sick, Alfred tell me you're just sick. I told you you should have gone to the infirmary, you idiot."

The only reason Arthur was able to see Alfred roll his eyes and then flinch at the action ( _ likely the effect of a headache, possibly migraine due to significant signs of stress-- _ ) in the darkness of the room was because they started glowing. 

Red.

And then Arthur felt like the idiot.

( _ He’s at risk; Reds found hiding will be taken--) _

He swore and hurriedly pushed at the other boy, glancing frantically around to make sure nobody had seen anything. "Come on, get up,  _ get up. _ "

"I--I--"

Arthur let out a frustrated noise and climbed over Alfred's legs. As soon as he was on the floor, he grabbed the other's wrist and pulled on it urgently. "Come with me, _ right now. _ "

Fortunately, Alfred only hesitated for a moment longer before he acquiesced and unsteadily stood up. Unfortunately, he was very unbalanced and would likely have fallen over if Arthur hadn't quickly righted him. He needed to get him away from the other boys and the cameras, away from anyone who could figure out what was happening and call for the PSFs. The bathroom was the safest place at the moment, providing a place to hide from prying eyes and a source to put out flames if anything caught fire. The only problem was getting there--their awkward stumbling due to Alfred's inability to keep his balance wasn't as inconspicuous as Arthur hoped, and as they passed he could hear quiet, sleepy whispers of some of the other Greens as they were woken up.

"Hey," a younger boy said, "what's going--"

Arthur's shaky hands fumbled with the bathroom handle and when he finally pushed it open, he all but dragged Alfred inside after him. When the lock clicked into place he let out a shuddery breath of relief, but still shoved the storage dresser in front of the door anyway ( _ most of those kids are smart enough to know how to pick a lock-- _ ).

He didn't look at Alfred as he went to the sink and turned the cold water on as high as it would go. "Keep your hands under here until they cool down," he instructed brusquely, moving aside to make room.

Alfred thankfully did as he was told, staggering over to the sink and practically leaning his entire weight onto it to keep himself upright. His hands actually steamed when the water made contact with them, and he flinched and made to pull them back.

"Keep them there," Arthur repeated, grabbing the other boy's hands and holding them under the faucet himself. He ignored Alfred's quiet whine of protest.

A knock sounded lightly on the door and Arthur tensed anxiously. "Is everything okay in there?" Mother Teresa called softly.

"E-everything's fine," Arthur insisted, silently cursing the pitch of his voice. "No need to worry, go back to bed."

"Okay... If you need any help, let me know." There was a moment's hesitation, and then he continued, louder, "Alright everyone, back to bed. Don't give me that look Jeremy, it's way too late for you to argue about this."

Arthur let the rest of the general chatter out there continue without paying anymore attention.

It took about two minutes for Alfred's hands to finally cool down. Two minutes Arthur spent berating himself for not catching on sooner. The signs had been there, he could've figured it out day one if he hadn't been subconsciously scared of the possibility. He could've prevented this situation from happening if he'd been just a little smarter, if he'd intervened from the beginning...

"You okay, dude?" Alfred asked weakly, startling Arthur out of his thoughts. He was watching him warily from where he was bent over the sink. Without his glasses, it was easy to note the puffiness of his eyes, and how pronounced the circles underneath them were.

"You're the one who should be answering that," Arthur pointed out. He realized he was still holding the other's hands and hesitantly let go.

Alfred straightened a little, shaking his hands to dry them and spraying water all over Arthur's person in the process. "I'm okay now," he said.

Arthur distastefully wiped at the drops of water on his face, doing his best to hide his relief. "Do you know what this means?"

"Well. I'm pretty sure it means I'm not a Green." Alfred gave a watery smile. "I told ya so."

Arthur sighed tiredly and leaned his face into his hands. ( _ Red abilities seem related to emotions. Counter measures needed to help calm him and hide any signs. Need to also account for--) _ Arthur shook his head. “You can brag in the morning. For now, let’s just go back to bed.”

* * *

 

In hindsight, Lovino should have figured that this abandoned gas station, the only building around in miles, would attract unwanted attention like moths to a flame. It was perfect for both squatters scavenging for food and skip tracers on the lookout for kids on the run. But stopping here for the night had seemed like such a good idea-- he and his brother had been walking for what felt like an eternity and they were already running low on supplies from their last pit stop at a derelict bar a few days back. And it wasn't like they didn't check to make sure everything was safe before setting up their makeshift camp for the night; it truly had seemed like the universe was on their side for once.

"Lovi?" Feliciano asked tentatively, scraping his spoon against the bottom of the can of ravioli. It was the first time they'd had the luxury of eating something other than stale potato chips or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in quite awhile, and despite the fact that they were eating them cold out of the can (Lovino had tried to start a fire to warm them up but simple survival skills and he just did not get along), Lovino thought he'd never appreciated anything so much before. Which was such a sad thought, really, given what they used to cook. Not two months ago, Lovino wouldn't have touched Chef Boyardee with a ten foot pole. 

They really had fallen so far.

"Hmm?" Lovino asked.

"Do you think we're ever going to get there?"

"What, to East River? Of course we are, dammit!" Despite his words, there wasn't any real heat to his voice. "It would be faster if you were one of those smart Greens and could figure out the code for us, but we're still going to get there eventually."

Feliciano pouted at the thinly veiled insult. "Hey, at least I remember all of Grandpa's instructions. I don’t understand why we couldn’t write them down, weren’t they kind of important?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino waved the subject away dismissively. "Are you done, there?" he asked pointedly, addressing the way Feliciano was tipping his can back to try and scoop out the rest of the leftover sauce.

Feliciano shrugged sheepishly and set the can down. "Not as good as we used to make," he said wistfully, "but it was nice for a change."

"Mhm." Lovino stood stiffly from where he'd been leaning back against one of the freezers and kicked his can away irritably. "I'm tired as Hell, so you take the first watch." Feliciano nodded dutifully but Lovino still narrowed his eyes at him. "So don't fall asleep until you wake me up."

"I already said I was sorry about that,  _ fratello-- _ "

Lovino purposely ignored him and made to unravel his sleeping bag. Okay, so maybe he'd been a little frustrated and short with Feliciano lately, and maybe his brother didn't entirely deserve it (maybe), but to be fair, the past few weeks had been nothing but harrowing and stressful, and all Lovino wanted was a break. Not even necessarily from his twin, just from constantly being on the run and worrying about everything from their ever-diminishing supply of essentials to whether or not they'd even survive long enough to run out anyway.

Feliciano scooted away from his position against the wall and made to rummage around in his backpack. A moment later, he pulled out his flashlight and sketchbook and quietly made to settle himself on his stomach beside Lovino. He thought about complaining about the proximity and the light but if he was being honest he wasn't that annoyed by it, so he said nothing. Although he didn't like to admit it, sometimes it was nice to watch his brother draw. He'd always been good at it, regardless of the addition of his powers, but the perfect photographic memory he had now certainly added a lot to his skills. These days his eyes would glow a quiet green as he worked, so he was only able to do it when they were for sure safe and alone. Lovino had thought about keeping an eye out for a pair of sunglasses for him to use, but it'd gotten pushed to the side for other important things on his mind. Like, currently, sleeping.

It felt like Lovino had barely been asleep for ten minutes before Feliciano was urgently shaking him awake.

"What--  _ what-- _ " Lovino jerked upright and made a muffled noise of protest when his twin quickly pulled him back down again. "What's going on?"

Feliciano's expression was tight and nervous, highlighted by the weak yellow light of his flashlight, and if Lovino hadn't been fully conscious before, he definitely was now. "There's someone back there." He gestured shakily beyond a few aisles towards the storage room.

Lovino swore quietly and lightly pushed himself away from his brother. "They just walked through the front doors and you waited till they got all the way over there to wake me up?"

"I was quiet until it was safe-- like you said, remember, because you said I have a loud voice and I don't have the same abilities as you so I wouldn't be able to do anything and it would be safer for us to run than to fight--"

"Okay," Lovino conceded quickly, frantically glancing around to make sure no one had been drawn over by the faint greenish glow of Feliciano's eyes. "Okay. Was it just one person?" When Feliciano nodded, Lovino continued, hurriedly struggling with the zipper of his sleeping bag. "alright, let's pack our shit and leave, right now."

Feliciano wrung his hands nervously. "Okay, but it's still dark outside," he pointed out fretfully, even as he made to shove some of their supplies into his yellow backpack.

Lovino finally managed to pull himself free from the sleeping bag and quickly scrambled to his feet. His somewhat victorious expression faded at Feli's words, and he swore again. "Yeah... But we can't stay here, so we don't have a choice. Come on, let's go."

They hadn't even collected all of their things before they heard a surprised shout from within the storage room and then someone was stumbling backwards through the door with a pathetic cry of, "Ow, ow!"

Both Feliciano and Lovino shrieked (though Lovino would later deny it). Feliciano stumbled back into a shelf of candy and knocked several items over, repeating a messy mantra of, "Please don't hurt me I'm too young to die!" Meanwhile, Lovino instinctively flung his hands out, too spooked by the intrusion to really comprehend what he was doing until he heard a sudden crash and another, much more pitiful, "Ah! Stop iiit!"

Lovino hesitantly opened his eyes, and, after a moment, cautiously stepped around the shelves to see who he'd just accidentally caught with his powers.

It was a boy, laying face down in the main aisle of the gas station. Despite the situation, Lovino felt his heart rate gradually slow back to normal, because at least this was another kid and not a skip tracer or PSF soldier.

Feliciano finally quit his terrified rambling when he realized how quiet everything else had become, and a few moments after, he was nervously coming to stand a bit behind his twin. "Lovi?" he asked uncertainly, peering over his shoulder.

At the sound of Feli's voice, the figure on the ground seemed to perk up and he struggled vainly to pull his head up to see what was going on. "I'm sorry!" he said to the floor. "I didn't mean to scare you! Please let me sit up."

"Finish packing our things," Lovino said curtly to his brother, ignoring the teenager completely. He shifted his stance, not taking his eyes off him in case he lost focus on his powers. "Then we'll get out of here."

"Please!" the boy whined. "I spilled soup on the floor and now it's burning my face, please let me up!"

Lovino himself was partly surprised by his abrupt snort of laughter. He cleared his throat and, with a sigh, flicked his hand to drag him up so he was sitting on his knees. Despite the boys complaints, his face was only slightly red from the hot soup, and his brown hair and loose shirt looked only slightly disheveled from being tossed down. As they looked at each other, Lovino was vaguely upset to see the other’s green eyes showed genuine happiness, the bastard. He had half a mind to push him back on the ground.

The boy's smile was so bright Lovino was convinced they didn't even need Feliciano's flashlight anymore. There was a noodle stuck to his cheek, but he didn't notice or didn't care about it. "Thanks! That was getting pretty uncomfortable."

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here? Who are you and  _ how did you have the time to make soup?” _

"My name's Antonio," the boy said cheerfully. "I came by for the same reason as you, I think. I saw you two and I tried not to wake you up but, well." He smiled again, this time a bit sheepishly. "We can see how well that turned out."

"You didn't think that maybe you should've left instead?" Lovino asked scornfully.

"I didn't want to sleep outside! And I didn't know you were such light sleepers, otherwise I would have offered you some of my soup."

"Are you being serious?" Lovino asked with narrowed eyes, because he genuinely couldn't tell. When Antonio nodded quickly, Lovino continued, expression twisting into one of disbelief. "How the Hell have you managed to survive so long on your own?"

The other boy seemed affronted, and his affable smile slipped downwards a bit. "What do you mean? I'm not a child."

"Do you still have any soup left?" Feliciano asked suddenly, stepping up beside his twin.

"Feli," Lovino hissed.

The offended expression cleared. "I do, actually! If you let me move I can get us some--"

"No way in Hell, bastard," Lovino cut him off immediately with gritted teeth. "I don't know what game you think you're playing here, but we're not going to be apart of it. Feli, I told you to get our bags."

"I'm not playing any games!" Antonio promised. "It's just... it's almost Thanksgiving, and it's cold out there, and I have warm food to share. We're all Psi, we shouldn't have to be afraid of each other."

“We don’t even celebrate Thanksgiving, idiot.”

“Oh, well I don’t really either! But it’s still a holiday!”

Feliciano turned to Lovino with pleading eyes. "He's offering us food, Lovi."

"We just ate a few hours ago!"

"But it was cold! Also he seems nice, please can we stay here? I don't want to travel anymore tonight it's dark and scary and I'm getting really tired!"

"Okay, okay!" Lovino snapped. "Fine! Here, bastard." He flippantly waved his hand and abruptly pulled the older teen to his feet. "Don't try anything funny."

"I won't!" Antonio insisted. "I have everything set up in the storage room over there, vámonos!"

Lovino decided then and there that he hated this boy, he hated him so much.

"Come on!" Feliciano said cheerfully, pulling on Lovino's arm. "What are you waiting for?"

"Stop touching me," Lovino muttered, brushing past his twin. He crossed his arms and stomped irritably after Antonio.

The storage room was pretty much cleaned out of supplies, and the boxes and items that were left were torn and destroyed. The floor was so dusty footprints were actually visible in it--human and critters alike.

Antonio made his way over to the corner of the room, where he'd set his bag down. "I spilled the chicken noodle one," he said, "but I still have some vegetable and tomato ones left."

"I want the tomato soup," Lovino said immediately, then cleared his throat to pretend he hadn't been as eager as he sounded.

"Ah, a guest of great taste," Antonio remarked, though Lovino couldn't help but note the slightly sad look on his face, as if he'd been looking forward to the tomato soup specifically.

Well, too bad. It was his damn fault for offering it in the first place.

"Lovino really likes tomatoes," Feliciano added, helpfully. He was about to say more but broke off with a sharp "ow!" when Lovino elbowed him.

Antonio laughed. "They are the best. Here," he opened the can and made to offer it to Lovino but hesitated. "I can warm it up for you, if you want."

"Go right ahead; I have no idea how you think you'll manage that, though."

"Okay." Antonio shifted, suddenly seeming almost nervous. "But, you have to promise not to freak out."

"What do you mean--"

"We promise!" Feliciano agreed easily.

"Wait, what?!"

From where it held the bottom of the can, Antonio's hand abruptly burst into flames.

Both twins let out terrified shrieks (again, Lovino would never admit to it) and took several steps back. Feliciano clung onto Lovino's shoulder, as if trying to use him as a shield, which was insulting, but Lovino didn't push him away because it helped hide the way he was trembling (which he most certainly was not).

"Hey, you said you wouldn't freak out," Antonio protested.

"You--you _ bastard- _ -" was all Lovino managed to choke out.

"Grandpa said to stay away from the kids who control fire and the ones who can control minds," Feliciano began rambling, his eyes flaring green as he recalled the exact words. "He said they were dangerous and could hurt us and that we don't want to take any risks so it would be best to not associate with anyone like them. But," he paused for a moment, uncertain, and the glowing of his eyes gradually faded. "All you did was heat up the can."

"I wasn't going to hurt you," Antonio said in confusion.

Feliciano released his death grip on Lovino's shoulder. "Well then maybe it's not so bad..."

"If Grandpa said those things, it was for a reason," Lovino interrupted harshly.

Feliciano turned to him with that stupid pleading expression. "But he said he's not going to hurt us, and we can never get fires started anyway so he could do that so we'll always have warm food and warm places to sleep, right? And he's really nice Lovi, I think we should just stay together."

" _ Excuse me? _ "

Antonio's eyes brightened, and he also turned to Lovino with a hopeful look. Lovino was tempted to throw them both of them onto the ground and just leave by himself. "It gets really lonely travelling alone, it would be nice to have some company."

Lovino regarded the both of them incredulously. Finally, he rolled his eyes heavenward, silently asking God what he'd done to deserve this. "If you’re going to be sticking with us, you’re going to need some better clothes."

"Yay!" Feliciano turned back to Antonio, previous cheer restored. Lovino pointedly ignored the "Gracias, Lovino" and grateful smile the stupid teen offered him and mutely grabbed the can out of his hands.

Well. Today was Hell, but at least he had tomato soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter only has two POVs, but it was long enough that I didn't think a third was necessary.  
> Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated! I live for your comments and criticism, so please, please let me know what you thought!  
> Thanks for reading this far :)

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story before I saw the Darkest Minds movie, but when I finally did see it I added the whole "eye glowy" thing because it was cool. Also, there are some elements of the original Darkest Minds that I'm tweaking a bit, like everyone's ages, because I'm sorry but I didn't feel like writing a bunch of sad eleven year olds :)  
> Please let me know what you thought! I worked really hard on this. Comments are very much appreciated!


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